Fate Strange Replicate
by Ayesdefghel
Summary: After the Snowfield disaster, Grail Wars are banned. Nine years of unreleased tensions at Clock Tower have united opposing factions in their desire for open violence, and pressure on Clock Tower's leadership mounts. Only a few canon characters make cameos.
1. Prologue: Magic and Fate

Disclaimer: I don't own the Nasuverse.

-prologue-

Fate. _What must come to pass. The progress of cause and effect. _By definition, Fate is an absolute. Fate is explicit, and, with enough time and data, its path becomes obvious. There are certain rules that the universe plays by. Something may not come from nothing. An event may not have multiple contradictory outcomes. A soul requires a body to anchor it to this realm. _Concealed_. Events earlier in time cause events later in time. Death, the fact that everything ends, is one of these, as well.

Magic. _What is unachievable by mere use of time and resources. The manifestation of the truly impossible._ By definition, Magic is the denial of an absolute. Magic is a Mystery, and its nature is to remain so. Magic breaks basic rules. The Denial of Nothingness. The Kaleidoscope. Heaven's Feel. _Hidden_. Magic Blue. Heroic Spirits, those who are more like phenomenons than people, are never truly destroyed.

But isn't any use of Magic just furthering Fate? After all, Fate is what must happen.  
But doesn't Fate just not apply to Magic? After all, Magic is that which should not happen, but does.

Now, think on Gaia and Alaya. The mind of all the world, and the mind of all the people, they and their Beasts doomed to endless conflict over the fate of the planet and those on it. Of course, both will eventually be wiped out. Gaia is already dying, and, if they can even survive, humanity will still have the Sixth Law to deal with, not to mention the Aristoteles come to avenge their sister.

Do Fate and Magic, in their Spiral of tension, end the same way? Ah. Sorry. That was a ridiculous question. How can basic laws and the ability to break those laws be destroyed by humans?

Well, basic laws are destroyed by Magic. Magic is the term for when the impossible happens. We can't destroy basic laws, so humans can't stop Fate. Magic is that which can destroy Fate, but we, you and I, have to abide by Fate and as such don't have magic. And we can't stop Magic because the way to destroy mystery is to unveil its workings, and Magic's workings can't be unveiled. So I suppose you could say that humans can't stop either of them, even though the only way to stop Magic would be with minds.

What about the Magicians?

The Magicians aren't human. Humans follow rules. Humans don't have that kind of power, and, and this is a debatable point, I think that a human would enter the Root. I wonder what, how, and if they think, sometimes. How could anybody turn that down?

-/prologue-

Well, that was the prologue. I'm trying to use a slightly more Nasuesque style; I need to learn to write in different voices. That, and my desire to create Xanatos Gambits, are what motivated me to attempt writing this.

Servant stat sheets will be posted here as the Servants are unveiled.


	2. Chapter 1: Clock Tower Gears Grinding

This chapter is currently undergoing reformatting.

TO DO:

Emphasize the bustling, argumentative, complex, and-held-together-with-shoestring-duct-tape-and-prayers feeling of Clock Tower

Add an overworked Glaucus scene

Meet four characters, none of who are our (main) protagonist(s). This was originally two chapters, but I thought I should put them together, since they occur simultaneously. One viewpoint from four characters seemed to flow better, so that's what I used.

* * *

**-Chapter One: Clock Tower Gears-**

_London, England. Norwich Student Dormitory, Fourth Floor. 2023, nine years after Snowfield_.

_A square room with three bunk beds arranged in a U shape; the open side is towards the entrance. A dimmed fan and light combination is firmly bracketed to the ceiling. the The left bunk's lower half is concealed by a blanket draped down from above, and the top is covered in hastily folded girl's clothes, most of which are uniforms. Judging by sound, somebody is attempting to find a comfortable position to sleep inside. The center bunk is probably behind a screen of books, which hide a window and possibly a bed from view. The bunk on the right side is fully open. The bed is unmade and assorted pieces of clothing seem to be randomly draped around_.

Even the Clock Tower's name was misleading. Of course, the official pamphlets and propaganda said that the "famous title" was "full of history and prestige", and, while the repute of Clock Tower was recognized across the world, Mari Itomura privately suspected that they kept the outdated misnomer just to confuse new entrants. As if they needed any more confusion! Even in the Academy, just talking to the wrong student or mentioning a possible department change might trigger a wave of repercussion; anything from stolen pencils to sabotaged exams to suddenly finding out that your favorite bakery, the one that sold those delicious fruit tarts, had, with no warning whatsoever, gone out of business might result. She was sixteen; sixteen year old students, especially those who've sacrificed- (not that she missed her old life, but she'd heard the stories) to get to their current position, should be studying, not plotting. Just being born asian with a high number of circuits had cost her multiple quizzes and lectures. Never mind that she had never even seen or been the slightest bit interested in Japan, neglect the fact that she had no family crest, and, of course, discard her merely mediocre abilities in actual Magecraft, and maybe, if she had better grades, she would be worthy of their discrimination. The lessons started out at a fast pace and only grew faster. The dormitory doors were never locked, although Prana exchange was frowned upon, since there were other Magi who could use the money from potion sales. Ostensibly, this was so that any student attempting their own experimentation could be caught. Realistically, any intelligent student could hide their work. Of course, the Mage's Association would have no reason to teach someone who was idiotic enough to try their ideas without secrecy, so they won either way. The ridiculous three page schedule in tiny print, reissued every week, had no consistency; random guest lecturers showed up, other teachers were too busy with personal projects, had been off fighting Dead Apostles, or didn't feel like waking up. All of these things were tolerable, but the worst of it was that the scholars and teachers, the adults who were supposed to keep the mess that was Clock Tower Academy under control, just overlooked the chaos, or occasionally winked at superbly smart or scheming students. It was the beginning of her second year, and she was already exhausted due to her summer. Looking for extracurricular credit, she'd taken an empty spot in some Lord's expedition along the path of Alexander the Great. Not that she regretted it; she'd met someone her age, Madrigal Mehitable, and ended up with a lyre from Troy. Once she reluctantly showed it to the Lord, he laughed and, oddly, said that, "Alexander already found the one he wanted." He allowed her to keep it. That made him quite a strange man; as the expedition's patron, he was entitled to all its spoils. An artifact from the Age of the Gods could fetch quite a tidy sum, sold through the right channels, more than enough for some new clothes. Had he just been showing off? He was a Lord, after all, and an El-Melloi at that...

Mari rolled over. She'd have to find some sort of curtain soon; Narcelle had mentioned that the draping blanket made her appear antisocial, which was (obviously) only alright if you were a brooding prodigy, which, the girl had made very clear, Mari was not. She tried to move herself, but her straight black hair had gotten caught under her shoulder. She winced, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. The next lecture was at 21:42 and Madrigal had asked her to wake him up half an hour early...

* * *

_Meanwhile: London, England. Clock Tower, The British Museum. _

_A hallway, about three and a half meters wide, with polished wooden floors. Doorways and the occasional other corridor entrance can be seen on one side. Windows line the other. Looking through them reveals the London skyline. The city lights are barely distinguishable from the sun's last fading rays. A few straggling Magi hurry up and down, clutching research papers or complicated pieces of equipment._

Lord Ulysses Teth-Wylvan Ascerbe strode purposefully down the halls of Clock Tower. His worn red cape, a memoranda of long-past days in Clock Tower Academy, fluttered behind him, its hood half-concealing his face. Of course, here, in the Clock Tower, Magi recognized the cloaked figure and made sure to step aside. He nearly smiled, watching them scurry past, eyes averted. One young magus dropped her books directly in front of him. He casually flicked his fingers, and the books slid to the wall. The Vice Director would not be pleased if he was late, and not even he dared risk the wrath of the Queen of Clock Tower, especially considering that her latest attempt to pin down the elusive Thirteenth Apostle's location after it fled Australia had ended in complete failure. The meeting place was far from his workshop, but that was only to be expected. Lady Bartholemoi did not like to expend excess effort, her Dead Apostle hunts being the exception, and, if Lord Ascerbe had been in her position, he would have done the same thing, so he did not hold it against her. After all, he had been the one to request the discussion. So he said nothing and entered the Vice Director's office.

* * *

_Meanwhile: London, England. Norwich Student Dormitory, Fourth Floor. _

One floor up from Mari, Madrigal Mehitable lies in his bed facing the wall, and silently winces, cringing as he attempts to rip a piece of his soul off. Tonight is the culmination of several months' worth of research; turning one of his magic circuits into a very small and limited Thaumaturgical Crest. The spell will become stabilized, but he will lose a piece of his potential. Why is he doing this? His high-quality circuits should make this dangerous operation redundant, and to perform a Magecraft on this level with no supervisation is highly hazardous. Sweat beads on his forehead. Madrigal's circuit control has always been exceptional, to the point where he could be called a prodigy, but something like this is hard to accomplish, no matter the natural level of skill. Breathe in. Breathe out. He can feel the Prana flow through his body. Eyes closed. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sweat beads on his skin. Breath in. Breath out. Intense awareness of self floods his mind. He makes an attempt to bend a piece of the network to his will. Detach. Reform. The circuit rips away, and a shimmering sky-blue glyph appears on his left wrist. He's panting with effort, but, even through the strain, the breaths are tight and controlled. Madrigal releases the tightness he wasn't aware his muscles carried. All that is left to be done is to run Prana through the new crest... He should be able to do that without any problems-

A tentative knock on the door sounds. Mari opens it, her book bag slung over her shoulder. "Um. I think it's nearly time for-"She takes in the space. Low bookcases and a modern steel desk occupy most of the room, which is smaller than hers but unshared. The bed is directly across from the entrance, under the window. Madrigal is lying on it, facing away from her, panting and sweating.

"..."

Her mind finally catches up to her mouth. "T-take as much time as you need, then. No need to think about those of us who want to get to class," she stammers, blushing, and immediately backs out of the room.

Before she can leave completely, Madrigal speaks, his voice perfectly flat. "Thank you. That's very nice to know. I was just finishing up anyway. I mean, it's not like I'd ask you if I wanted to arrive on time or anything." Mari flushes further. He's surprised, actually. Over the summer, she would have just collapsed the tent on him, but the Clock Tower affects everyone differently.

* * *

_Meanwhile: London, England. Clock Tower, the Vice Director's Office. _

Lorelei Bartholemoi is precisely composed; as a Bartholemoi and the Vice Director of the Clock Tower, how could she be anything else? She allows herself one vice, the destruction of the 27 Dead Apostle Ancestors. Ancestor hunting, although bloody and violent, is interspersed with long periods of research and waiting. This would normally be acceptable, were it not for the fact that her sole lead on the mysterious and vague Thirteenth Ancestor has proven fruitless. Atlas had refused to provide information; distancing themselves from the Thirteenth after a disasterous collaboration with the Church. She hates stagnating at Clock Tower; she'd prefer to pin the vampire down personally, but the office of Vice Director comes with certain regrettable duties. Among them is a requirement to listen to any Lord's request. Ascerbe isn't even a proper Lord, (nobody wanted to risk offending him and they didn't know where else to put him), but the regulations that bind the Clock Tower from collapse cannot be denied. So, Lorelei Bartholemoi must burn valuable time on frivolity. Her face remains composed, and her voice is short and clipped. "Neither of us wants to waste time. What is your request?"

"Very well, then, Vice Director. I wish to reinstate the Holy Grail Wars."

Lorelei purses her lips in silence. She is off-balance, a rare feeling for the Queen of Clock Tower to experience.

"... You do realize what you are asking? Fuyuki was a horrible mess, to put it lightly. Snowfield was a disaster, and not just for our image. The Enforcers still haven't fully recovered, there are Noble Phantasms loose, and some American Association members survived. Nobody has ever reached Akasha through Heaven's Feel. You are a Magus of significant ability, and I did not think you would simply take another's route. There is also the possibility that you have someone you want discreetly removed, although, as a Lord, you have more than enough clout for that."

"I realize exactly what I'm asking of you. I would not waste time, yours or mine, if I did not. There is land of sufficient quality in America, far enough away from any fallout to keep Clock Tower safe, and there is little danger of exposure. My research requires... conflict, although if an opportunity to pass through to the Root came up, I would be foolish to discard it. There are, as you acknowledge, certain factions within Clock Tower that would be better off removed, and this reinstatement would serve that purpose as well. Glaucus Lidell, the current Chief Coordinator, has requested a temporary change of assignment, and I dare say that an upcoming Grail War would be far less stressful. Erich Algerne has also volunteered his services. Perhaps he may still be of use to you; the fact that he can no longer assist Chelon Canticle is regrettable. Your support or acknowledgement would allow us to procure the remains of the Greater Grail for research."

"I don't expect an answer. I'm just here to inform you of possible events. What you choose to do with that information is, of course, completely up to you."

-/Chapter 1.1-

* * *

So, that's one Servant confirmed. (That Artifact might come in handy...) I'll be doing a different take on the traditional view of him/her though... However, some (not nearly all) of my Servants are already posted on a certain forum.

Also, reviews wouldn't hurt, although they aren't nessecary. Constructive criticism, emphasis on criticism (nice reviews are nice and all but they don't help me improve.).  
This won't be updating for awhile; but not for the reason you think. It isn't being written in chronological (or very logical) order. Updates like this one, revisions, will be much more common.

* * *

**Key Term: Clock Tower**

The greatest of the three main branches of the Mage's Association. Its name is misleading; the majority of its workshops and laboratories are under the British Museum.

**Key Term: Norwich Student Dormitory**

An off-campus dormitory of the Clock Tower Academy. Several years ago, this building was nearly destroyed by two feuding students. That event caused security precautions and renovations to be deemed nessecary.

**Key Term: Crest, also Thaumaturgical Crest**

Magic Circuits crystallized for consistency. Easier to activate, but versatility is sacrificed. Generally passed down though families; each member adds a piece to the crest. Since only one heir may exist, siblings are fiercely competitive.

**Key Term: Snowfield**

A horrible disaster. The previous hometown of Mari Itomura.


End file.
